A/N - I just have to say that I am humbled by the awesome reviews and the number of readers who are sticking with this story. Thank you all!! I live for reviews, feedback and honest critiques - it all helps feed the beast and strengthen the writer :-)

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Chapter 21 - Vengeance

Bobby made a point of stopping at the Starbucks near the office, fully believing that Eames would appreciate the extra caffeine this Saturday morning. While waiting in line to place his order, it occurred to him that what had started out as an occasional surprise for his deserving partner, was recently turning into a routine. More often than not, he found himself in this very same line, as proven by the young man behind the counter when he asked, 'The usual?' On impulse, Bobby chose something different and added two banana nut muffins to the order. His favorite, not hers - although Eames still seemed to eat a good portion whenever he had one.

Juggling two cups of coffee and a paper bag, Bobby used the knuckle of his pinky finger to press the elevator button. His rapid and uninterrupted rise to the eleventh floor was evidence that this was a quiet Saturday. As he stepped off the elevator and rounded the corner, he was surprised to see Eames already at her desk. Laptop open, she was intently leaning close to the screen reading something that had her full attention.

When Bobby managed to drop the bag of muffins on his desk without spilling hot coffee on his hands, Eames looked up at the sound.

"I see you already have coffee," he gestured with his chin toward the Styrofoam cup she had near to hand.

"Actually, this one's empty," Alex eagerly reached toward him. "Thanks," she smiled when he handed over the Cinnamon Dolce Latte he'd chosen as a treat. He watched her close her eyes and inhale the rich scent with an expression close to ecstasy. She hummed softly after her first sip, and Bobby's breath clogged in his throat when the tip of her tongue appeared to lick the sweetness from her lips. Explains this new routine of yours, doesn't it? She opened her eyes and looked at him with a quizzical expression. "What did I do to deserve this?"

Stalling to be sure his voice didn't crack like some pubescent teenager, Bobby cleared his throat, rolled his chair away from his desk, and sat down before answering. "You came in early on a Saturday morning," he answered casually. "How long have you been here anyway?"

"Oh… awhile," Eames replied vaguely, already re-focusing her attention on her computer screen.

Bobby studied his partner. After what happened the previous night, he'd expected some awkward moments, but he wasn't sure if that was the reason for Eames' studious attention to her computer. Thinking back to their conversation at her door, he knew he should have left it at, '…don't think it's such a good idea.' But he'd heard the affection in her voice and seen the confusion in her eyes. When he'd brutally shoved temptation away and declined her offer, worry creased her brow and he could almost hear Eames chastising her impulsive self. Bobby just couldn't let her believe that she was alone in this tangle of confused yearnings. For although he could blame the scotch for loosening his tongue, he couldn't claim that it made him lie. "Are you okay?" he finally asked in a low voice.

"The pounding headache started to ease about half an hour ago," Eames answered while still reading her computer screen. "I'm good." And then she looked up and met his eye. If Bobby ever needed proof that she could read him better than anyone ever had, this was it. Her expression softened and she relaxed into a gentle smile. "Bobby… we're good, okay?" He smiled back with relief and gave her a quick nod of acceptance. "Now give me some of your muffin," she demanded as she held out her hand.

He smugly removed one muffin then passed the other to Eames. She peeked into the bag and cocked an eyebrow at him. "I wanted more than half a muffin this morning," he muttered with false annoyance, which did nothing to dampen her enthusiasm as she broke off a piece of banana nut sweetness and popped it into her mouth with a grin.

"So what has your attention?" he pointed toward her computer with his muffin in hand before taking a large bite.

"I did a search on 'Isaiah.' You wouldn't believe how popular that name is," she grumbled as she clicked her mouse with one hand and fed herself pieces of muffin with the other.

"Isaiah…" Bobby's interest was piqued. "It means… 'salvation of God.' In the Bible, chapters of the Book of Isaiah are… are devoted to vengeance and salvation."

Eames placed her coffee cup on her desk, rubbed her hands together to remove muffin crumbs and started typing, apparently refining her previous search parameters. Propping one elbow on her desk, she began rubbing her thumb absently over her index fingernail while she scanned through her new list. "Here we go," she said as she reached for her mouse. Bobby got up, walked around to her side of the desks, and snagged an empty chair.

On Eames' computer screen, he saw a black background and the word 'Isaiah' in elegant white script centered at the top as a headline. Delicate, translucent graphics suggesting avenging seraphims randomly adorned the page. At the bottom of the screen were more words in a smaller font of the same white script:

Home - Our Mission - Register - Chat - Message Boards

In the very center of the screen was a quote:

Isaiah 47:3 – "Your nakedness will be exposed and your shame uncovered.
I will take vengeance; I will spare no one."

"Click here," Bobby pointed to 'Our Mission.'

We seek to rebalance spiritual and material realms
through the elimination of fear and strengthening of the meek,
for they will surely inherit power and punishment over all.

They looked at one another and Bobby thought that Eames' expression probably mirrored his own – a mixture of unease and triumph. "So it is a religious crusade," Eames commented softly.

"Yeah… well… it's a perverted crusade, and that mission statement is just a bunch of gobbledygook," Bobby replied as he stood up and walked back around to his desk. "Their interpretation of Isaiah 47:3 is from a… a more contemporary version of the Bible. Probably the New International." He opened his bottom drawer and took out the well-worn, black leather book that often served as a reference for him. "In the King James Version…" he fanned the pages with his thumb to the approximate location of Isaiah, opened the book fully, then quickly flipped through with his fingers until he found the chapter and verse he sought.

"Thy nakedness shall be uncovered, yea, thy shame shall be seen: I will take vengeance, and I will not meet thee as a man," he read aloud. "The words are… less provocative. Less likely to… to incite violence." Bobby was feeling the familiar buzz he got when understanding began to take hold. It was like a double-shot of espresso hit his veins and his mind started thinking faster than the words could come out of his mouth. He was beginning to feel where these people lived.

"The whole thing is crap anyway," he dropped his Bible on his desk. "The quote i-is taken out of context. It's used for their purposes," he angrily gestured toward her computer screen, "just like they used Vetruvian Man an-and related references to… spiritual and material realms."

He sank into his chair, leaned back to stare at the ceiling tiles, and rhythmically rubbed a hand across his mouth as he thought it through, snapping puzzle pieces into place while still left with an open void. Swiveling around to face Eames, he continued thinking out loud. "They're taking bits and pieces… enough to suggest a spirituality. A… a justification for their actions. But all they're really doing is dealing out their own form of punishment."

Eames nodded agreement and understanding. "Someone in this group, probably the founder, was a victim of abuse," she closed the circle for him. "Maybe they all are."

Bobby smiled at her with renewed appreciation. "To them… these murders are the path to their own salvation."

"You have to be registered to get into the chat or message boards," Eames' attention was back on her computer screen. "I'd better do that from the cybercafé up the street."

"Perfect excuse for more coffee." The look on her face told him that if she were twenty years younger, she wouldn't hesitate to stick out her tongue. Bobby started gathering papers and notes to put in his binder, preparing to join her on the walk to the café, when Eames' phone rang.

"Major Case. Eames." He heard an odd, strangled sound from the other side of the desks and looked up. Eames' face had visibly blanched and when she met his gaze, her eyes were dark with emotion. Bobby felt a knot of anxiety tighten in his chest as he wondered what could possibly have her so upset. "Where?" her voice trembled over the word. "We'll be there," she said quietly before hanging up the phone. "Sarah Moreno is dead."

TBC…